


No Illusions About You

by embroiderama



Category: White Collar
Genre: F/F, First Time, Genderswap, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-17 13:52:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/868283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embroiderama/pseuds/embroiderama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Diana didn't want anything to do with Nora Caffrey, no matter how good she looked in custom-tailored vintage menswear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Illusions About You

**Author's Note:**

> In this AU, events don't necessarily happen in the same order or exactly the same way as in canon, and I've switched the gender of another very minor character as well. This is for the "genderswap" prompt in my [](http://trope-bingo.dreamwidth.org/profile)[](http://trope-bingo.dreamwidth.org/)**trope_bingo**. Title from Ani DiFranco's "As Is."

Nora Caffrey was just about the _last_ woman Diana thought she would trust, back when she waltzed into the White Collar department in her $500 heels with all that vintage menswear tailored to hug her slim curves. Nora might've been smart and skilled, but she made a habit of charming any woman who would look her way and turning men into idiots over the idea of something they would never, ever get. Diana could respect the skill but she couldn't respect living that way, and the last thing she wanted was to be thrown together with her just by dint of gender and sexuality, so when the position in DC opened up Diana jumped at the chance despite her love of the city and her respect for Peter and the rest of the team.

But DC didn't work out, and when Diana came back to New York it wasn't so easy to dismiss Nora Caffrey. The woman was still capital-T-trouble, but she was a solid part of the team, and it seemed like she'd do just about anything for Peter. But behind all the flirting and and all the perfect little glittering details there was a well of grief and pain, and Diana got that. Time went by, and Diana watched Nora become less of a con, more of a woman and--surprisingly--a friend. She wished Nora luck when Sara moved in and took her out for drinks when Sara moved out.

And when Diana showed up at Nora's door, heart-sick from breaking up with Christie, Nora gave her good beer and a shoulder to cry on. Diana woke up on the sofa, tangled up in blankets and hungover from the emotions more than the beer, and Nora gave her espresso and scrambled eggs and clean clothes to wear when she was ready to go home. Then Kramer came and threw everything into chaos, and Diana watched Nora slip away.

It hurt in a way Diana wouldn't have expected, the hole left in the team and in her life. Nora Caffrey had somehow turned into a real person, and Diana _missed her_. She helped Peter track Nora down, and when Peter took off for that island where the Spanish bells rang at night Diana wished like hell that she could go in his place. She told herself that she'd never see Nora Caffrey's face again; she told herself that was a good thing.

Then Peter brought her back, and a few days later she came limping into the White Collar office, tanned to perfection and sporting flat shoes as if they were a fashion choice rather than an accommodation to her injury. Again, Diana wished she could have been the one to go after Nora; she would've liked the chance to give the bitch they sent after her a taste of what it felt like to be shot. Nora Caffrey was a lot of things, but she didn't deserve to be hunted like a dog in the streets. She was a lot of things, and that included being a part of the White Collar team, but Diana couldn't deny that there was more. Having Nora back around filled the hole that had been aching since she left, and Diana wanted to touch her, hold onto her, but that was the kind of thing Peter did. Not Diana.

She caught Peter watching her, and he cornered her at lunchtime, lured her to Starbucks. "You know," he said, looking somehow both amused and uncomfortable, "Nora's my direct report. As far as anything official goes, you and she just happen to work in the same area."

"Oookay, thanks for clearing that up?"

Peter shook his head. "So, it might not be 100% kosher, but I think that's always been a losing battle when it comes to Nora. If you two want to pursue something, I think you should go ahead. I know you'll keep it out of the office."

Diana's stomach clenched up at the idea that she'd become so transparent to Peter when she'd only just figured it out for herself. The shock of vulnerability twisted into anger, the way it always did. "What are you saying? I like women, she likes women, so hey we must automatically want to jump in bed together?"

Peter's mouth dropped open, then he pressed his lips together looking disappointed. "Di. As long as we've worked together, when have I ever been that guy?"

Diana felt her face flush with heat. "Damn it. I'm sorry, Boss, you didn't deserve that."

"No, I didn't." Peter's voice was gentle. "I have eyes. And if I didn't, you better believe my wife has eyes. And I think I know the both of you pretty well. I'm not telling you what to do, but it would make me happy to see the two of you happy, however that comes about."

Diana nodded, not sure what she should say or even what she wanted to say. Over the next few days, she couldn't get it out of her mind. There was no question about attraction; Diana had given up pretending she wasn't attracted to Nora long ago. And it seemed stupid to hang on to the separation between cops and robbers when they worked and laughed and drank and cried together, when they were ready to sacrifice for each other.

So yeah, Diana was interested. Diana _wanted_ , and she couldn't claim to know what was going on in Nora's head or to know how to separate Nora's reflexive flirting from the real thing but she thought there was a chance. Peter thought he saw something, and somehow he'd always been able to read her and understand her better than anybody. Even if Peter was wrong, Diana figured that if anybody knew how to let a girl down easy it would be Nora.

Saturday morning, Diana got up at six for her run, and clearing her head only made more space for Nora to move in and stretch out. Diana got home and hit the shower, and under the pounding water she thought about how long it had been since somebody else's hands had touched her. There was no shortage of women in the city, but after Christie Diana didn't want just anybody, she didn't want another woman who wouldn't understand her life or her commitment to the job. She wanted Nora, just Nora.

It was mid-morning by the time Diana was dressed, and as she rode the subway to Manhattan and then uptown she knew that she should call Nora. Maybe she wasn't at home, maybe she wasn't alone. As far as Diana knew her weird little friend wasn't back in town, but he wasn't likely to announce himself. Nonetheless, Diana didn't call or text or do anything when she exited the station in Nora's neighborhood other than hit up a coffee shop for two lattes and a bag of croissants. The maid who answered the door recognized Diana enough to let her in, and as Diana climbed the stairs to Nora's door her heart raced like she was pounding up six times as many flights of stairs.

She told herself that it was stupid, that Nora was her friend and co-worker, not some stranger. Then the door opened, and Diana wasn't so certain because she'd never seen Nora quite like this. She looked like she'd just rolled out of bed, hair rumpled and face pillow-creased. She wore blue silk pajama pants that were long enough to cover her anklet and a white cotton camisole, her feet bare on the wooden floor. Beautiful. No tan lines.

"Hey," she said, running her fingers through her hair, "is something going on?"

Diana shook her head, and Nora stepped back to invite her in. "I'm sorry to wake you up." She held up the drinks, and Nora smiled as she reached out for one of the cups.

"Don't worry about it, I was half-awake anyway. I was up a little earlier then fell back to sleep." She opened the cup and took a long drink. "And you saved me from having to make breakfast, so thank you."

Diana took a sip of her own drink and hated how awkward she felt, how hesitant. _Woman-up_ , she told herself. _Woman the hell up._

"Come on, let's sit down." Nora walked over to the couch and sat down with her feet tucked under her knees. "My feet are cold."

"Can't have that." Diana brought the bag of croissants over and sat down, turning to face Nora. "I, uh, I came to ask you about something personal."

"Okay." Nora took one of the croissants and tore off a piece, popped it in her mouth.

"Are you seeing anybody? Sara or--"

"No. Sara and I are friends but no. There was a woman while I was away but--" Nora shrugged her bare shoulders. "Call it a summer vacation romance." She pulled another flakey bit off of her croissant and studied Diana for a moment. "What about you?"

Diana shook her head. "No. And this is probably crazy, but I was wondering if you might want to go out sometime. With me."

Nora's eyes went wide and she swallowed hard on the croissant in her mouth. "I thought you said my charm didn't work on you."

Diana didn't remember saying that, but she thought she probably had. "Don't you think somebody could be interested in you, the real you? I don't want to be charmed, I want something real." Diana reached across and cupped her hand lightly over Nora's wrist. "What do you want?"

Nora looked down at where Diana was touching her and she tensed like she was going to pull away. Then she turned her hand over and slid her fingers slowly along the underside of Diana's forearm, a drawn-out tease of sensation. "I want to be somebody real," she whispered.

Diana reached out, her hand shaking just a little, and pressed her palm to Nora's cheek until she looked up. "You already are." Diana didn't know quite how to say what she felt about that, so she smoothed her hand back to tangle her fingers in Nora's thick curls and pulled her closer until she felt Nora's breath on her face.

Nora closed the last inch of space between them and her lips were dry but her tongue was soft and so welcome as it slipped in against Diana's, carrying the taste of butter and coffee. Diana still had her leather jacket on, and she couldn't move like she wanted to so she struggled to pull it off without breaking contact with Nora. When she was down to her t-shirt, the air felt cool against her flushed skin. She knelt up on the couch, kicking off her shoes as Nora sank down beneath her. Diana slid her hands under the stretchy camisole and felt warm skin, muscle over bone, then the soft curve of small breasts. She covered them with her hands, felt the nipples harden against her palms as Nora's hands worked at her jeans.

Dizzy from the lack of air, Diana pulled back from Nora's lips and looked at her. Her head was tipped back and other than the camisole bunched up under her arms the top half of her body was bare. Diana had always imagined that under all that wool and silk Nora's skin would be pale, fragile, but now her tan told the story of weeks spent on the beach, some of that time apparently topless under the tropical sun. She dipped her head down to kiss the skin over Nora's collarbone and was somehow surprised that she tasted of soap rather than suntan oil. The pajama pants hung low on Nora's hips, but Diana needed more--more skin, more heat.

She untied the drawstring and tugged the waistband down, the silk satin slipping away easily as Nora lifted her hips. Diana held her breath, and then there, on the side of Nora's thigh, was the bullet wound. She didn't know how she'd forgotten after a week of watching Nora in her flat shoes, the limp that was barely noticeable in the morning growing by the end of the day. But she had forgotten, and it looked so wrong, the ragged pucker of barely healing flesh where everything else was smooth. Diana blinked, and in her mind she could see the wound open, the bullet ripping through, blood spreading out in a sticky circle. Diana felt like somebody had hit her in the throat, and she sat up until she could lean against the back of the couch.

Distantly, Diana heard Nora's breath catch, then Nora sat up, tugging her shirt down to her waist and hiking up her pajama pants. Diana realized that her jeans and underwear were down around her knees, but she didn't even care. Her heart was racing, and she didn't know why, didn't know why she'd _stopped_ when she had so much right in front of her.

"I know it's ugly," Nora said, hurt hidden behind a thin veneer of anger in her eyes, and that, Diana knew, was totally wrong.

"No." She shook her head and forced herself out of her head enough to take Nora's hand. "God, I'm sorry." Diana ran her free hand over her face and felt herself calming down, her heart slowing back to normal, and she tugged her t-shirt down as far as it would go. Nora squeezed her hand, and when she looked up there was more confusion than hurt in Nora's eyes. "I'm sorry," she said again.

"What just happened?"

"I don't know. I knew you'd been hurt, but I didn't really think about what that meant. That you could've died."

"It really wasn't that bad. Believe me, if she'd been trying to kill me she would've." Nora smoothed her thumb lightly over the fabric covering the wound. "This was all about slowing me down."

"She should be in prison."

Nora laughed a little bitterly. "Good luck with that. I'm just glad I'm not in there."

"Me too." They were still holding hands, and Diana used the connection to tug Nora closer. "You remember me telling you about Charlie?" She closed her eyes as Nora leaned in and nodded her head against Diana's shoulder. "I called for help, and then I was trying to help him, trying to stop the bleeding. There was another wound, worse, and there wasn't anything I could've done, but--" Diana took a deep breath and let it go, trying to shake off the feeling. "I guess that's the last time somebody I really cared about was shot, and I don't like thinking about you hurt that way."

Nora slipped her hand free but then she moved halfway onto Diana's lap, silk satin cool against Diana's bare thighs, and reached up. Her fingers threading through Diana's hair started a flush of sensation and then Nora kissed her, soft and slow, more lips than tongue. Diana held onto the sides of Nora's chest and felt the steady rhythm of her breath as Nora's ribs expanded against her hands. Nora winced and shifted again then rested her head against the back of the couch next to Diana's head.

"There's nothing ugly about you," Diana said, needing to make sure Nora didn't think that.

Nora sighed. "I hope I don't ever make you change your mind about that." The words were quiet, little more than a whisper, and Diana thought that Nora was talking to herself as much as anything, then Nora backed off of Diana's lap. "Sorry, my leg doesn't like this as much as the rest of me does."

"No, I'm sorry, I should be letting you rest it. This was too fast." Diana's legs were cold without Nora on them, and she felt silly sitting there with her pants around her knees, so she stood and tugged up her panties. When she started to pull up her jeans, Nora stopped her.

"Maybe a little too fast, but leave your jeans--I think we should move this to the bed." Nora grinned a little wickedly and picked up the bakery bag. "Breakfast in bed."

The twists and turns of the morning had Diana feeling like she didn't know what direction she was supposed to go in, but breakfast in bed was an easy decision. She stepped out of her jeans and socks, picked up both cups of cooling coffee, and walked over to the bed in her t-shirt and underwear. She climbed up and slipped between the sheets, not at all surprised to feel that they were impeccably soft, some kind of ridiculous thread-count that felt exquisite against her skin. She arranged a couple of pillows against the headboard and relaxed back into them, letting the tension from earlier dissipate.

Nora disappeared off to the bathroom, and when she came back she had traded the satin pajama bottoms for a tiny pair of sleep shorts. The bullet wound was visible, but so was the slim strength of the rest of her, and Diana watched as she detoured into the kitchen before coming back over to the bed.

"Fruit salad," she said, waving a plastic container and two forks. "To counteract the the croissants."

"Perfect!" Diana laughed then took the container as Nora climbed into the bed. Instead of arranging her own pillows, Nora slid over until her hip was flush against Diana's. Under the sheets, their legs touched full-length and Nora hooked one knee over Diana's, twining their legs together.

Nora tilted her head against Diana's and sighed. "Are you sure this is real?"

Diana ran the sole of her foot up Nora's calf and back down until her toes bumped against the anklet. "If this were a dream, I'm pretty sure I would've come by now."

Nora snickered inelegantly and reached over Diana for the bakery bag. "This is going to freak out Peter, right?"

Diana stole a croissant out of the bag as it passed her by. "I pretty much got a 'what are your intentions?' speech from him the other day, so I think he'll be good."

"Are you serious?" Nora shook her head. "He won't just be good, he'll be smug, but I think he'll deserve it this time."

"Definitely." Diana stroked her foot up and down Nora's leg again, leaning into her shoulder while she ate her pastry. "Definitely."


End file.
